


Angel's Trap

by anonymous_dragon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Light Bondage, M/M, Stripper Lucifer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-25
Updated: 2014-08-25
Packaged: 2018-02-14 17:11:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2200104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymous_dragon/pseuds/anonymous_dragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel Novak and Anna Milton decided that Anna’s older brother, Michael, needed to unwind, especially since he recently took over his father’s company. They take Michael to a strip club called Devil’s Trap, paying a stripper self-named Satan to pay specific attention to Michael.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angel's Trap

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Supernatural. Nor do I know precisely where this came from, considering the bulk of it was written during the really late/really early hours of the day. I'm sorry.

_Devil’s Trap_ the neon sign read, a few of the letters flickering occasionally. Michael glared at his little sister and her friend. “I am not stepping inside such a structure,” he stated monotonously. Gabriel rolled his eyes.

“C’mon, Mikey, we already have reservations. You wouldn’t want to waste the money Anna and I saved, now would you?”

“You are a horrid influence on Anael,” Michael stated. It was Anna’s turn to roll her eyes.

“Oh, please, Mike, like he’s the worst friend I have. Now, let’s go.”

“I am not going in there.”

“Sure you are,” Gabriel smirked. “Anna, puppy-dog eyes, please.”

“With pleasure,” Anna grinned wickedly before turning to her brother with pleading eyes. “Please, Mikey? Won’t you come inside?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“Anael.”

“Please?”

Michael sighed. “Fine.” Gabriel and Anna shared a grin. “ _But_ it’s only because you two weren’t going to let me leave. This has nothing to do with those puppy-dog eyes of yours, Anael.”

“Yeah, whatever you say,” Gabriel waved off.

“Let’s go,” Anna said. The three walked inside. “Gabriel, show Michael to his table, yeah? I’m gonna go find a friend.”

“Sure, a _friend,_ ” Gabriel winked. Anna smacked his shoulder. “I’ll show him, I’ll show him,” Gabriel placated. “Now go find your little miss Romeo.” Anna whacked him again. “Stop hitting me, I’m going, okay? C’mon, Mikey, before your sister abuses me anymore.” Anna stuck her tongue out at Gabriel. He returned to gesture. The two grinned at each other before walking away in opposite directions. Michael stared at Anna, her red hair swishing slightly as she walked, but followed Gabriel.

“Here we are,” Gabriel waved to a table right beside the stage with only one chair. Michael stared at him quizzically, but didn’t question. “Enjoy the show,” Gabriel winked. Michael stared at the empty stage for a moment. When he looked back to Gabriel, the blond had already disappeared into the crowd. Michael sat down tentatively, not sure what to expect.

There was a pole a very short way from his table on the stage; Michael knew that was part of Anna and Gabriel’s plan. There were actually three poles spaced out along this side of the stage, and two along the other side. Michael sat close to the center pole. _So, I’m here to see the main attraction,_ Michael thought dryly.

The music started not too long after Michael sat, but only two men dressed in leather stepped onto the side of the stage Michael was sitting at. Two women were on the other side, a lean and tan blonde along with a pale-skinned brunette. Michael turned his attention to the two men that danced closer to him. One was tall, almost abnormally so, with brown hair that probably needed to be cut. He wore no shirt, and his black leather pants left nothing to the imagination. The other was shorter, and had dirty blond hair. The most prominent thing about that male was his cheekbones. He wore the same styled clothing as the other.

Michael, somewhat bored, scanned the crowd. Close to the brunet male, he thought he caught a glimpse of a familiar short blond, but he was too far away to tell. But then the music seemed to change, and the two men slowed their dancing. Another man walked onto the stage, and, to Michael, it looked like he owned the stage. Eyes were fixed on him. Blond hair, unmarred skin, and a toned figure, but clothing covered him almost modestly. Well, until this male reached the center pole and began his show.

Even Michael was transfixed at how he moved, glidingly and liquid, almost incorporeal. He shed clothing like a second skin, a snake sliding from his old scales. Then he seemed to notice Michael. A grin spread across his face and Michael’s stomach dropped. _Anna, this was yours and Gabriel’s idea, wasn’t it?_ Michael swallowed as the man kept dancing, his eyes focused on Michael. Michael couldn’t tell how long the show actually lasted, but it seemed to last an eternity, the way a dream felt like it lasted a lifetime. Music changed, but the man’s gaze never wavered. Michael knew, in the back of his consciousness, that most strippers were supposed to dance for the entire crowd. If he were to glance at the blond male to his right, Michael would see the stripper taking money from multiple people, giving out sly grins and overt gestures for a few bucks. If he looked to the brunet down the left side of the stage, or the women on the other side of the stage, Michael would see the same thing. But Michael’s gaze was held by this focused beast, this fallen angel that stood before him, dancing in an almost inhumane manner.

But then the music stopped and the man began to walk off the stage. The other dancers followed, and Michael frowned. The show was over. He supposed it was time to locate his sister and Gabriel, but then the man was in front of him, an amused smirk dancing on his lips, his body too close to Michael for comfort.

“What’s your name, angel?” lips whispered into Michael’s ear, hot air blowing against the skin.

“M-Michael,” he managed. The grin that was on the man’s face twinkled in his blue eyes.

“It’s a pleasure, Michael,” the man purred. “I’m Satan.” Michael could believe him; his voiced dripped the same sin as his body. Every portion of the man screamed lust. “How about we go somewhere,” the man said, before flicking his tongue out to lick the shell of Michael’s ear, grinning at Michael’s shocked little gasp, “a bit more private?”

Michael nodded dumbly, letting himself be led through the crowd by Satan. Soon, they were in a room away from everyone and everything else. Michael heard the door latch as it closed; it only opened from the inside. _That’s why it had been left ajar,_ the small rational part of Michael’s brain whispered, but Michael couldn’t hear it over the rushing of blood in his ears. Satan’s eyes were scanning over Michael, assessing him. An amused look glinted in his eyes.

“First time at a strip club?” he asked, an eyebrow raised.

Michael nodded. “It is,” he said, trying to keep his voice monotonous. Satan caught the suppressed waver, his lips spreading wide into a grin.

“By the time tonight’s over, you won’t have such control over yourself,” Satan promised, his lips suddenly against Michael’s ear again. “Unless, of course, you want to take control away from me,” he spoke as his mouth moved downward, breathing against Michael’s jaw, inching toward the hollow of his neck. Michael shook his head, a silent _no_ passing from his lips. Satan smirked. “What, have you been a bad boy?” Satan glanced up into Michael’s eyes, a wicked flame alight in the blue. Michael’s jaw clenched. “Or would you just like to be reduced to a whimpering mess?” Satan’s lips brushed against Michael’s collarbone. The shudder that passed through Michael was unmistakable. Satan’s fingers began dancing feather touches against Michael, quicksilver ghosting over skin and cloth. “How about we get that off of you, hm?” Michael nodded.

Michael moved to begin unbuttoning his shirt, but Satan quickly snatched his hands, holding them behind Michael. “Ah, ah, ah,” he tsked. “I’ll do it.” Satan held Michael’s wrists behind him for a moment longer, before his ghost fingers went to the buttons. Michael’s eyes were transfixed on those fingers as they deftly undid his shirt. Cold fingertips were painting invisible brushstrokes over Michael’s chest before the article of clothing hit the floor. “What would you like me to do?” Satan asked against Michael’s earlobe, fingers trailing over the planes of his back and shoulders. Michael turned his head to look Satan in the eyes, and all Satan could see in his eyes was lust.

The two were about the same height, Satan taller by maybe an inch or two, so Michael reached to attempt at seizing the lips that oozed a sin Michael had never dreamed of. Satan ducked his head, and his lips ghosted against Michael’s collarbone again. Satan grinned at Michael.

“Tease,” Michael muttered, his head still turned toward Satan, now his lips at Satan’s ear. On a whim, he captured the earlobe between his teeth, inflicting enough pressure to be just shy of painful, before releasing. Satan glanced at him, almost surprised. “I can play dirty, too,” he husked into Satan’s ear. At the gravelly sound, Satan smirked, suddenly shoving Michael toward the bed.

“Now, what would you like me to do?” Satan inquired again, after successfully caging Michael under him on the bed.

“I don’t know,” Michael answered.

“What do you like?” Satan asked, nipping at Michael’s neck. Michael shuddered and bared his neck further, so Satan figured he liked that.

“What do you like?” Michael countered, his fingers fumbling to remove the shirt he deemed was unfair for Satan to still be wearing. Satan rolled his eyes, sitting up to tug off his shirt.

“I like taking control.” Satan’s lips were suddenly ghosting down Michael’s chest, as if Michael were fragile glass not to be touched. “I like hearing what I’m doing to my partner.” Satan nipped at the edge of Michael’s hipbone that was above the line of his low-riding jeans. Michael took in a sharp breath, almost scowling when he felt more than heard Satan chuckling against his skin. “And,” Satan said before dragging his tongue up Michael’s chest until he was nose to nose with Michael, “I like taking my partner to an edge when they can’t tell pleasure from pain anymore.” Michael swallowed. “But my question was what do _you_ want?”

“That,” Michael replied hoarsely. “Do that to me.” Satan grinned wickedly.

“First, some rules, then.” Satan chuckled as Michael seemed to deflate slightly. “I’ve done this before. I don’t know if you have. So, some safety words. Green means go, okay? Yellow means something’s uncomfortable or you want to keep going, but try something else. Red means everything stops. Does that work?”

“That works,” Michael whispered with a nod.

“Good. Now, is there anything you don’t want me to do? Some of these things require more trust than anything else, so are there things you don’t want to happen?”

“Uh, I have work on Monday, so no marks where people can see them,” Michael started. “And I want to see you.”

“No blindfolds, then?” Satan asked with a quirk in his grin. “Anything else?”

“No asphyxiation.” From the way Satan’s mouth curled, Michael decided that wasn’t going to be an issue anyway. “And no master-slave roleplaying. Anything else … should be okay.” Satan nodded.

“Are handcuffs okay?”

“… Yes, so long as they leave no marks.”

“Anything you’d specifically like to do to me?”

“Anything I can’t specifically do to you?”

“I have the next week off, so, nope, tonight’s a freebie. Anything goes.”

“If you didn’t have the week off, what couldn’t I do?” Michael asked. Satan shrugged.

“No marks would be the only thing you couldn’t do if I had to work. Damaged goods and all.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Do you want to?”

“If I didn’t, would I be asking?”

“I don’t know, would you?”

“Can we stop answering questions with questions?”

“I don’t know, can we?” Satan grinned.

“Yes,” Michael said, reaching up and ensnaring Satan’s lips with his own, also pushing them both up into a sitting position with his legs wrapped around Satan’s waist. Satan had only been teasing before; he could do wicked, wicked things with those sin-dripping lips, much more than just whisper touches and fleeting bites. Satan was an expert, catching Michael’s bottom lip between his teeth, sneaking his tongue into Michael’s mouth, and otherwise slipping past Michael’s defenses. The forked tongue caught Michael by surprise, but Michael had little remaining functionally rational parts of his brain by this point.

Michael’s hands ran up and down Satan’s sides, fingernails digging crescent moons into his shoulder blades before entangling in Satan’s hair. Satan’s hands managed to attack Michael on two fronts; one was raking down his back while the other reached down to slide up and down his thigh.

Satan turned the tables soon enough, landing Michael with his back against the bed and his hands about his head. Satan reached over and plucked a pair of padded handcuffs from a drawer beside the bed; they sufficiently trapped Michael’s hands to the headboard. Michael struggled against the bonds for a moment, but Satan’s hands sliding from his sides down his legs stilled his movements. Satan looked down at Michael, sitting between his legs.

“Green?” Satan asked as his fingers danced towards Michael’s button and zipper. Michael nodded.

“Green.”

Satan grinned and slowly undid the button. Michael scowled, quite tempted to tell him to hurry, but he had a feeling that would make Satan move even slower. Rather than risk it, Michael stayed silent and still. After the button was undone, Satan seemed to take pleasure in drawing out unzipping the fly for as long as he could. Slipping Michael’s jeans down took longer than he liked, but then the fabric was gone, and Satan stretched himself out over Michael, once again caging his torso between his hands and knees.

“Everything okay?”

“I’m not made of glass.”

“Of course you aren’t,” Satan murmured again his lips. “But I was just making sure.” Satan’s lips collided with Michael’s again, before trailing up his jaw and then down his neck. Satan knew Michael’s shirt would cover his collarbone when he went to work on Monday, so Satan’s lips latched there, nipping and sucking until a red mark stood out against the mostly otherwise unblemished skin.

Satan’s lips went to the sensitive skin of Michael’s nipples, tugging and licking at each one while his fingernails scratched down his sides, leaving red lines running down his skin. Satan could feel just as well as he could hear Michael’s gasps and soft whimpers, but he knew there were more sounds to be elicited from those pretty pink lips of Michael’s.

Satan’s hands paused at Michael’s hips while his mouth went back up to his collarbone. His fingertips slid under the last remaining fabric on Michael’s body that did little to hide anything, nails biting in as they traced Michael’s hipbone.

“Please,” Michael breathed, a mere phantom of a plea escaping his lips. Satan pulled his head up, grinning, bringing hands up and placing a forefinger over Michael’s lips.

“Hush,” he whispered. “I’ll take care of you, angel.” Satan removed his finger and lightly touched Michael’s lips with his own, his hands moving further down Michael’s torso as the kiss became less feather-light. Almost bruisingly, teeth and tongues warred. Satan dragged his fingernails down Michael’s sides again. Michael struggled against his bonds.

“I want to touch you,” Michael breathed against Satan’s ear as Satan’s lips trailed down his neck. Michael could feel the chuckle run through the lean body above him.

“Tonight’s all about you, angel,” Satan purred. “You don’t have to worry about a thing.”


End file.
